Dancing Queen
by Novindalf
Summary: Section D, Six's anniversary dinner dance, and one woman hiding the biggest secret of her life; what could possibly happen...? Fluffy H/R twaddle. *SPOILERS FOR S9, MINOR SPECULATIVE SPOILERS FOR S10* Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

***SPOILERS FOR S9, SOME SPECULATIVE SPOILERS FOR S10***

**Disclaimer:** I tried to do something clever and write "I do not own Spooks" in Morse code, but it kept getting rid of two of the dashes in 'o' so I gave in. The message remains the same: it's not mine. Also, the fic title quite obviously comes from the ABBA song.

**Characters / Pairings:** Harry, Ruth, Tariq, Beth, Dimitri, Alec; Ruth/Harry, slight Dimitri/Beth

**Summary:** Section D, Six's anniversary dinner dance, and one woman hiding the biggest secret of her life - what could possibly happen...? Fluffy H/R twaddle.

My thanks go to Griddle Pop and Rambling Scribe for their help on the DG's name, and especially to Lady Devonshire for being such a mine of use_ful_ information on all things ball-related =D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"It is my greatest regret to tell you all to cancel any plans you have on Saturday evening. You all now have a prior engagement."

Harry's announcement as he took his seat was met by an array of bemused faces. Among all the dropped-jaws and blank stares around the table, one voice spoke up.

"It's hardly a _prior _engagement, Harry, if you neglect to tell us _before _we make other plans."

Harry shifted to look at her as she pulled back the adjacent chair and sat down the space that had been left.

"It would seem that after the past months of my telling the DG of Six that the best way to celebrate our sister service's centenary was _not_ by blowing the increased budget on an extravagant evening for half of Whitehall, he has has finally realised I was right."

"Why are we still going then?" asked Tariq.

"Something about 'inter-agency cooperation' or 'competition' – I can't remember which."

"Basically," offered Ruth, leaning forward, "the DG just doesn't want to admit he was mistaken." She turned a piece of paper absently in her hands, fidgeting as usual. Harry tore his gaze back up to her eyes in time to meet them. Neither of them was particularly fond of Sir Richard Dolby or his counterpart over the river, but after their investigations into Harry's panel of interrogators at the inquiry had revealed the Nightingale connections of several, the Director Generals of Five and Six had been rather efficient in dealing with them and rubber-stamping Harry back onto the Grid, so they had little choice but to approve of the two bureaucrats.

Pretending to ignore the hopeless pair gazing at one-another, Dimitri made a show of shuffling some files on the table. Ruth ducked her head, blushing. The piece of paper was becoming more and more crumpled by the second.

"Attendance is compulsory," Harry continued smoothly, addressing the whole team once more, "so you will all be there." He held up his hand to stop Beth objecting. "I'm sorry Miss Bailey. No excuses."

Once he had dismissed them he turned back to Ruth who, like always, had remained behind. A few moments passed as they continued their usual cat-and-mouse routine of avoiding eye-contact. "I'm sorry, Ruth," he murmured finally, meeting her soft gaze. He had been so looking forward to their-

But never mind. There would always be another time.

"It's alright, Harry," Ruth replied. "I'll just have to settle for this dinner with the bigwigs instead."

"Dance," he corrected absently, collecting up the various files from the table.

"Sorry?" She frowned, thinking she'd misheard.

"It's a dance, Ruth. With dinner. Didn't I mention that?"

No reply. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her again.

She looked stunned.

No, it was more than that. She looked terrified...

* * *

><p><strong>Is this an absolutely absurd concept we'll never ever see on Spooks?<br>_Absolutely._**

**Is this pure, unadulterated fluffy ridiculous nonsense, the likes of which we have never seen – and will never see – on the show?  
><em>Pretty much.<em>**

**Will this contain much wish fulfilment re Ruth wearing a beautiful dress?  
><em>Possibly. ;)<em>**

**And all born out of a hint from the writers about . ...- . -. .. -. -. / .- . .- .-. (and hopefully the Morse code worked there!)**

**This is for everyone whose fic(s) I have read/favourited/alerted lately without reviewing. I'll say 'exams' and hope you understand =)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In the brief time he had spent on the Grid, Alec had come to see Ruth as the rock of the team, stalwart, reliable, the unassuming centre of the bustling group. That wasn't to say he hadn't seen her let her emotions show – after all, he'd been there when Harry had gone to meet Lucas – but for the most part she seemed to be the mediator of Section D, the person who could always be relied upon to offer motivation, comfort and, where necessary, tissues and a shoulder to cry on.

So the last thing he was expecting was for the door of the meeting room to be yanked open, and for a distinctly Ruth-like figure to come flying out at full pelt, head ducked down to hide her tears, leaving the shout of "Leave me alone!" trailing behind her in the air.

Activity on the Grid drew to a momentary standstill. Beth was frozen in the process of handing some files to Dimitri, Tariq frowned as he peered over the top of his computer screen, and Harry... Well, Harry had emerged from the meeting room and was now leaning against the doorway, following Ruth's fleeing form with his eyes and looking utterly dumbfounded.

One of the files tumbled from Beth's hand and onto the floor, clattering as it landed and jolting everyone out of their tableau. Leaving Dimitri to clear up the mess of papers she had made, Beth manoeuvred her way around the labyrinth of desks and hurried after her flatmate.

Ruth had barely made it up to the rooftop when she heard the door behind her open. She sighed deeply, leaning more heavily against the railing, but didn't turn around.

"Harry, I told you to leave me alo-" she began quietly.

"I'm not Harry," interrupted Beth, "so I figured that might not apply to me."

Ruth wordlessly drew her cardigan around her tighter to shield from the brisk wind, and remained with her back to her colleague.

Unperturbed, Beth stepped up beside her. "Here," she said, holding out Ruth's coat for her. She slipped it on, grateful that the other woman was tactfully ignoring the tears seeping from her eyes. They stood side-by-side looking out over the city for a few moments, a familiar scene for Ruth but for the difference in her fellow observer.

The silence felt unusually odd, so Ruth shifted on the spot a little, drying her eyes on her sleeve and sniffing as she turned to face her flatmate.

"I'm sorry for making a scene," she mumbled apologetically. Beth let out a short laugh, and Ruth looked at her in confusion.

"Everyone's allowed to storm off the Grid every once in a while," she consoled her, gesturing with her hands for added emphasis. "And you were well overdue your turn."

Ruth exhaled what sounded like a disbelieving laugh and rolled her eyes. "So," Beth continued a moment later, softening her tone and tilting her head to one side, "what's wrong? It must have been really something to make you react like that in public."

Ruth looked up, horrified. "Oh god, I've just made an idiot of myself, haven't I?"

Beth snorted very indelicately. "Hardly! I don't think anyone could ever call you an idiot, Ruth." The corner of Ruth's mouth twitched, although whether in shy gratitude or embarrassed discomfort at the compliment Beth couldn't tell. "But don't change the subject," Beth added, pressing on. "What was it that was so terrible that it's made you like this?" She gestured vaguely at Ruth's puffy eyes and red nose, and the distinctive tear-tracks running down her cheeks.

"It's nothing," sniffed Ruth, her words feeble even to her own ears.

"'_Nothing_' wouldn't get you this worked up, Ruth. It must have been _some_thing..."

"It's fine. Just another of mine and Harry's stupid arguments. You know how we can be."

Beth returned the wry smile Ruth gave, wholly unconvinced but unwilling to press further, for the moment anyway. It _had _to be something really bad for Ruth to put herself and Harry in the same sentence as an attempt to change the subject. Still, Beth tried to oblige.

"So what do you think about this dinner thing on Saturday then?"

"Dance," Ruth corrected glumly.

"You what?" Beth looked at her in confusion.

"It's a dance."

"But Harry said-"

"He forgot to mention that little detail."

"Well a dance is still alright," Beth conceded. "It's better than simply a tedious dinner with some boring diplomats and politicians." She failed to notice Ruth's silence on the matter. "Harry's not left us much time to prepare, has he?" she continued. "We've got to sort out what to wear in only a few days, not to mention a date... Do you know if it's strictly service-only or if we're allowed plus-ones?" Ruth shrugged nonchalantly at Beth's inane chatter, wanting nothing more for her flatmate to realise that she wasn't in the mood, and to leave her alone.

"I don't know," Ruth replied, failing to keep her exhaustion out of her voice. "It's probably restricted to people who have been vetted and have signed the Official Secrets Act."

Hearing Ruth's weariness, Beth looked to her with a mixture of concern and confusion. "You don't sound too enthusiastic..." she hazarded. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Ruth repeated, sounding far from it. "I just don't feel like going. I'm not really a dancing person."

"But you have to go!" Beth insisted. "Harry said-"

"I heard him. I'm still not going. I'm not a field officer; you won't need me there to-"

"We're not supposed to be on-duty, Ruth!"

"-And you saw what happened last time we left Section C in charge of the building – the backlash lasted for days! Someone needs to babysit them and make sure we don't have another catastrophe like that on our hands."

"Their new Section Chief is perfectly capable of that, Ruth, as well you know."

"Just leave it, Beth. I'm not going."

"But why not? If it's finding a dress that you're worried about, I know plenty of people who would have the right kind of thing. Or if you're worried about a date, I'm sure Harry would obl-"

"Beth! Just leave it!"

Shocked at Ruth's uncharacteristic outburst, Beth shut up. Ruth exhaled heavily, dropping her head into her hands, her elbows propped up on the railing. "I'm sorry," she continued wearily. "I'm just really not in the mood for this dance."

Beth eyed her friend carefully, fully aware that Ruth wasn't giving out the whole truth. Something was bugging her, something far greater than not feeling like attending a ball, and Beth was determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for all the reviews for the first chapter! I have a fair amount of this fic written already (about nine chapters) but I'm going to be spacing out their posting, because I don't really have the time to be writing over the next month and I don't want to leave it too long between updates.<strong>

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please do let me know what you thought =)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"What do you mean, _'She's not coming'_? She has to!"

Beth rolled her eyes at her colleague. "Do you think I haven't already tried that approach?" she snapped. "Ruth still insists that she's not coming to the dance. That's why I'm asking for your help."

"_Asking_?" repeated Dimitri incredulously.

"Well, ordering." Beth couldn't help but revel a little in her new promotion.

"This isn't what I'd call a standard op, Beth."

"She's giving out about as much information as our usual targets do."

Alec shrugged. _Fair enough._

"What exactly do you want us to do?"

:::

Sick of all the dance-related talk that had taken over the Grid, Ruth buried her head in her hands, trying to block out the excited chatter of her colleagues. She was astounded at how they'd all reverted to children since Harry had made the announcement about the ball. It seemed that it was all the whole of Thames House would talk about, even those who hadn't secured an invite; she'd heard several of Section A's part-time admin staff discussing the event in a corridor, all bemoaning the fact that they couldn't go – although why anyone would _want _to spend an evening with half of Whitehall was completely beyond Ruth. She would have happily given her place to anyone who wished to go. So long as they had signed the Official Secrets Act, of course.

Ruth was startled out of her reverie by the sound of something hitting her desk. Sure enough, when she lifted her head from its pillow of files there was a steaming mug set down in front of her, and its maker leaning against Ruth's filing cabinet.

"You looked like you could do with a drink," Alec said as Ruth blew on the tea so she wouldn't scald herself. "But Harry's the only one allowed alcohol on the Grid, so tea will have to do."

Ruth smiled into her mug as she sipped the drink gratefully. "Do I really look that terrible?" she asked jokingly.

Alec let out a short laugh. "I've seen you look better."

Ruth gave a little mock-grimace and took another sip of her tea, still a little suspicious. Alec was nice enough, and he certainly pulled his weight at work, but neither of them had ever spoken to one another outside that context before. She certainly didn't have the same kind of camaraderie with him as she did with, say, Dimitri, who would routinely accost her with a cup of tea and a quick chat in Greek.

"Anyway, Ruth," Alec continued. _Ah,_ she thought,_ there was something else in there after all._ "I was wondering if you'd like an escort to this Service dance on Saturday?" Her face fell. He noticed. "Oh come on, I'm not that bad am I?"

Quickly, she recovered, hands flapping in her attempt to placate him, and knocking her mug of tea in the process. "No, not at all!" she blurted out as she hurriedly mopped up the split drink before it spread. "I didn't mean it like that!"

Alec snatched up a file that was looking particularly vulnerable in the path of the devastating liquid. "Oh?"

Tea-related crisis averted, and now blushing furiously, Ruth dropped the sodden tissues into the bin and collapsed back into the chair. "It's just... I really... I'm flattered, but..." As Ruth contemplated the kindest way to let him down Alec waited patiently, catching Beth's eye over Ruth's shoulder and shrugging slightly. "I'm not actually going to this dance," she said finally, the corner of her mouth twisting into a small apologetic smile.

"Not at all?" His confusion was evident, and she inwardly grimaced at the thought of having to explain herself again.

"Someone has to keep an eye on Section C..." She gestured vaguely with one hand as she spoke, and gathered up the rescued files with the other.

"But they've got their new Section Ch-"

"I've got to get these back to the Registry," she butted in and, files in hand, headed out the Pods. Alec stood stunned for a second, then shook his head in bewilderment and headed over to where Beth and Dimitri were waiting in the kitchen.

"Well?" Beth pressed, barely giving him time to take a breath.

Alec shook his head. "Nothing. Just said that she's sorry but she's not going on Saturday. Nothing new."

"Right then." Beth turned to Dimitri. "Your turn. Let's see if _you _can't drag it out of her."

"Beth..." he said warily, not wholly comfortable with her scheme. "Are you sure we ought to be-"

"Just get to it, sailor," she interjected quickly. He sighed and gave her a mock-salute.

"Yes ma'am!"

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><p><strong>Bit of a filler chapter, but please let me know what you thought anyway! Next chapter: it's Dimitri's turn... =D<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When she heard the handle turning she wished, not for the first time, that the door to the roof could be locked from the _out_side. She pretended not to have heard the intruder, trying desperately to cling on to her last few seconds of solitude.

"So this is yours and Harry's secret love-nest, is it?" came Dimitri's voice, not either of the two she had been anticipating. She whirled around, processed his words, and gave a derisive snort.

"Hardly," she retorted, keeping her mind strictly _away_ from following that line of thought through. Then, eager to change the subject before her blush got the better of her and Dimitri read anything into it, she added, "Am I wanted?"

Dimitri resisted the urge to drop Harry's name into an affirmative. "It's fine," he insisted. "No national emergencies to speak of. Yet."

Ruth appreciated the addition and smiled her approval. It suited her, he noted, whishing she would smile more often.

"Actually," he continued, "I was hoping I could get you on your own."

"Really?" She eyed him cautiously.

"Hmm. About this dance on Saturday..."

"I-"

He cut her off before she could say anything. "I'd be delighted if you'd be my partner for the evening." He finished his somewhat startling request with a flourish and an even more surprising doff of an imaginary hat and a low bow. She stared at him for a few moments, taken aback, and then dissolved into incredulous laughter.

"I might be older than you, Dimitri," she said, laughs percolating through her words, "but I'm not _that_ ancient!"

He straightened up, pretending to look innocently confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted. "Can't a gentleman act thus towards a lady anymore?"

"I'm not a lady," she rebuked him, unable to hide her smile at the 'hurt' expression on his face.

_Not yet,_ he thought to himself. "So, is that a yes?"

Ruth bit her lip as she contemplated her answer. What with all his antics she had forgotten the request he had made of her. "Umm... what about Beth?"

"What about her?"

"Well I assumed you'd be asking her."

_So did I,_ he thought. _She was the one who told me to ask _you. Not that he was against the idea – Ruth was lovely, after all – he just didn't think of her in that way. And besides, he could hardly tell Ruth that was the reason he was asking her out instead of Beth...

He was saved from answering by Ruth herself. "It doesn't matter in any case," she murmured, feeling simultaneously guilty and suspicious at having turned down two offers of kind-of dates in one day. "I'm not going to the dance."

"Oh!" Dimitri's surprise, though entirely faked, convinced Ruth sufficiently. "Why is that?"

"Not really my scene." She shrugged her shoulders and crinkled her nose up with a feigned expression of nonchalance.

"Really?" You mean you didn't have your fair share of waltzes at Oxford?"

She inclined her shoulder again, and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Not really." Before he could draw breath again, she had launched herself away from the railing and towards the door back inside. "You should think about what I said," she suggested, vaguely aware of the irony of giving advice on someone else's love-life when she was so incapable of managing her own. "I'm sure Beth would love to go with you." Not waiting for an answer, she pelted through the door and down the narrow stairs, leaving Dimitri behind to watch the door as it swung back shut again.

He sighed. She really wasn't making this easy for them.

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><p><strong>Oh dear, Ruthie... You really need to open your eyes a bit more, don't you? =P<strong>

**Let me know what you thought! xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Work!" Ruth yelled at her computer for the umpteenth time. "Work, you stupid thing! Or I'll... I'll-I'll bitch-slap you!"

"_What_ was that, Ruth?" Tariq leant over from his desk, highly amused at Ruth's frustrated antics.

Fed up, Ruth gave the monitor one last whack for good measure, then flopped back into her chair.

"It won't do what I'm telling it to," she complained tiredly, leaning back into her chair, head tilted towards the ceiling with her eyes closed, and trying to massage-out her stress by rubbing her temples.

"Can I help?" Tariq asked, wheeling his chair over next to her.

Not bothering to open her eyes, she waved vaguely in the direction of her computer. "Be my guest," she said, folding her hands behind her head and breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself. It wasn't working.

"I'm not an expert," she heard Dimitri say, "but I don't think hitting it helps."

Behind her closed eyelids Ruth shot him daggers. "Yes, thanks for that," she snapped, his common sense doing nothing to quell her aggravation. Confused at her short-temper, he backed away. She sighed, rolled her neck around to ease its stiffness, and opened the first of the stack of files on her desk in order to get something productive done. New operating procedure manuals. _Brilliant._ She went to sip her tea, noticing a second too late that it was stone-cold. _Just perfect._ She got up to go and pour the cold tea down the sink, only to knock the stack of files off her desk and into a scattered heap on the floor. _The icing on the cake._

So absorbed in his technological twiddling he was oblivious to Ruth's plight, Tariq tried to strike up a conversation. "How are you getting to the dance tonight?" he asked.

That did it. "For the last time," Ruth snapped. "I am not going to this bloody dance! Not with you, or Dimitri, or Alec, or any other person who deigns to ask me between now and then, or at all!"

She stopped, suddenly all too aware of how public (and loud) her exclamation had been.

Harry beckoned her from his office door. "A word, please."

Feeling like a petulant schoolchild called to the head-teacher's officer, Ruth dropped the loose files into her chair and crossed the Grid. All eyes followed her, including Tariq's. He stared after her, flabbergasted, his face a picture of bemusement.

"I was only going to ask if she wanted a lift..."

:::

"Is there something you want to tell me about?" Harry hazarded as soon as the door was slid closed.

Ruth sighed. "It's just been a long day," she said.

Harry nodded, taking in her flushed face and the staticness of her hair from where she'd rubbed it out of the messy ponytail. "About you not coming this evening, then. Are you being serious?"

It was a very unwise decision for him to bring it up.

"Didn't I sound serious enough just now?" she asked, training an icy glare worthy of Ros Myers on him. "Or how about the several times I've personally told members of this section that I'm not going. When I turned down Alec, and then Dimitri?" Her words were caustic, but she was too fed-up to care.

"I thought that maybe you were trying to let them down gently..." he murmured guiltily, decidedly shamefaced.

"So you thought that rather than simply turning them down with the truth I would prefer to lie to them, tell them I wasn't going, and then turn up anyway just to spite them." She took his embarrassed silence as one of admission. "I'm flattered you think so little of me, Harry." She turned and went as if to open the door and leave. He flung out a hand to stop her.

"Ruth, wait, please. I didn't mean it like that." She let her hand drop away from the door-handle and turned back to him, slowly. "I suppose I thought that... Just that... if you were saying no to them that... That I..." He trailed off, unable to meet her gaze. "It doesn't matter." _I had hoped you might still say yes to me,_ yelled the voice in his head. He repressed it.

Ruth made no further move towards leaning, he noticed, so he tried a different track. "I wish you'd tell us why you're so set against going," he murmured softly, having inched so close to her she could clearly make out the indent in his right ear from a long-gone piercing, a left-behind relic of a rebellious youth perhaps. She focused on it intently so as to prevent herself from lashing out again and, rather less successfully, to stop her eyes drifting to the rather enticing glimpse of his chest offered by the unusually open-necked shirt. She tore her eyes away before he noticed her staring.

"It's nothing," she muttered in response, ducking her head and avoiding eye-contact. "Really, Harry. And by tomorrow it won't matter anyway."

"All the same, Ruth," he replied. "I wish you'd let us help. I wish you'd let _me_ help."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not sure whether Section D would work on a Saturday (but I'm guessing they would because terrorism probably doesn't take a break over the week-end), so just assume they would. Also, the 'bitch-slap' line was nicked from the Being Human episode in which Nicola Walker featured as a social worker =P<strong>

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for this fic so far! It's really making my day so much brighter amidst all the revision! (Plus it's so much fun to giggle away at all your guesses as to what's going to happen =D)**

**Hope you liked this chapter – sorry about the angst! xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

For the first time ever since she'd moved into Ruth's house, Beth was the last to return home in the evening. Even though the others hadn't been afforded the chance to leave early and prepare for the dance, when it turned four o'clock, Harry, recognising that although Ruth maintained she was not going to the ball she was still in no fit state to be working any longer than strictly necessary, told her to go home. Before she could refuse, he had all but frog-marched her out the door and bundled her into his car, telling his driver to personally ensure Ruth made it to nowhere but her front-door or else he'd end up driving the infuriating Cabinet Secretary around for the next three years.

The man had clearly taken Harry's threat to heart, Beth mused as she spotted Ruth's kicked-off shoes in a corner of the hallway, and her coat thrown onto a hook on the wall. Beth crept into the house quietly, fully expecting Ruth to be asleep after her clearly stressful day, and tiptoed towards the kitchen to get herself a drink. She passed through the lounge on her way, noting as she did that Ruth was not curled up on the sofa or in one of the armchairs. She must have made it upstairs then.

Beth put the kettle on and reached over the sink to the mug-stand. She noticed the empty mug lying upturned on the drainer, still wet from having recently been washed and left to dry. _Ruth must be awake after all,_ Beth deduced, at a loss as to why her flatmate didn't seem to have heard her come in. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Beth snuck back into the hallway quietly and up the stairs. She stopped on the landing, seeing the door to Ruth's room wise open, and the room clearly devoid of its inhabitant.

She was about to call out for Ruth when she heard a noise behind her. Instinct kicking in, she whirled around sharply. Straightening up from her defensive stance when she saw there was no assailant, Beth edged along the landing to the source of the door. The usually-shut door to the tiny study was ajar, and through the gap between door and door-frame Beth could see Ruth sat down on the floor, surrounded by files of packing boxes. She pushed the door open.

"There you are!" she exclaimed in relief. "What are you-"

So taken up by what she was doing Ruth hadn't noticed Beth's presence in the house at all. She jumped sharply at the sound of her voice and hurriedly tried to stash something back in one of the boxes.

_Too late._ Beth look one look at the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Ruth's face, and then caught a glimpse of what she was holding. "A trophy?" she asked, surprised. "What was that for? Being the brainiest of the bunch at school?" She prised it out of Ruth's very much unwilling hands and read the inscription on the base. "_Junior Ballroom Championship Open Circuit – First Place_?" She looked at Ruth in shock. "But that's..." Before Ruth could react Beth had cast aside the lid on the box she had been so subtly trying to cover up and was rifling through it. "_Exeter... Champion..._" Ruth put her head in her hands. "_Regional Finals – South West of England – First Place, University Circuit_- Ruth, but this is _dance_! I thought you said-"

"Please, _please_," Ruth implored her, "just put them back. You need to go and get ready." Head now out of her hands, Ruth tried to wrestle the trophies out of Beth's grasp and back into the box. Wholly unsuccessfully.

"Not a chance!" Beth brushed off Ruth far too easily for her liking. "Why didn't you tell us you could dance?"

"I can't, _please_, just put them back and I'll put the kettle on and we can pretend this never happened," Ruth pleaded, practically grasping Beth's knees in supplication.

"_Clearly_ you can, the kettle's already on, and not until you tell me why you lied to us!" Beth was unfailingly determined to finally get the real story out of Ruth.

"I didn't lie."

"Well you didn't tell us the truth..."

"I'm a spy; it's my job."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I just don't want to tell you the answer."

Beth let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, Ruth," she said. "Whatever it is, it can't be _that_ bad!"

"What makes you think it's bad?" Ruth snapped, suddenly very defensive.

"Well there's how reluctant you are to tell me, for one thing, the fact that you looked really to fight me for the trophies, for another... And, like it or not, you're very easy to read when you desperately want to avoid answering questions." Ruth bit her lip in annoyance. "Come on," repeated Beth. "How bad could it be? Why are you so set against coming to the ball?"

Ruth was silent, and for a moment Beth thought she might have to resort to some basic service-standard interrogation methods. Then the other woman heaved a great sigh, and flopped back against the wall.

"Alright," she exhaled heavily. "I'll tell you."

* * *

><p><strong>Aww, I'm cruel to have left you hanging on this secret for so long, aren't I? Well don't worry, it won't be long now! (And hopefully it won't be too much of a letdown!)<strong>

**Please keep the reviews coming; I love hearing what you all think =)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"I must have been about sixteen," Ruth mumbled, shrugging in pretence that she didn't know the exact date. "It was at the annual county dance contest in Devon. We'd been asked to exhibit an Argentine Tango for them, in addition to competing. 'Pure sex on legs', I think they said."

"You, or the dance?" Beth mused.

Ruth shot her a funny look somewhere between disbelief and incredulousness. "The dance," she replied, as if it were the obvious answer. Beth shrugged but let it pass. Only Ruth would manage not to take that as a compliment...

"So what happened?" she pressed.

"Well we'd never done one before they asked us, and the music they put on for our display was about five times faster than we were used to. We tried to keep up, but there's such intricate footwork that it was really difficult. And then it came to the lift, and..." Ruth trailed off, her face scarlet.

"And...?" Beth wasn't about to let Ruth get away with only half the story.

"And I caught my foot in my dress as I jumped into it," she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands in mortification, so quiet that Beth had to strain to hear her "and managed to throw myself straight onto the judging platform and knock them flying with their own table!" Her eyes pricked with tears of shame as she recalled the embarrassment of the mishap, and the derision that had accompanied it.

"That's it?" she heard Beth exclaim in disbelief.

Ruth's head snapped up. "_That's it?_" she repeated shrilly, astounded by her flatmate's complete lack of sympathy. Beth flinched, both at the tone Ruth's voice had taken on, and on the sheer shade of red her face had turned. "It was _horrific_! I've never been so _humiliated_ in my entire life! I was a laughing stock in front of the whole audience, not to mention three highly esteemed judges!"

Beth tried to pacify her. "Ruth, but that's not _that_ bad. Everyone trips over at some point in their life."

"Not in front of that many people! Who were laughing at me!"

"Didn't you think that maybe they were laughing at the sight of 'three highly esteemed judges' sitting on their backsides and looking absolutely ridiculous?" Beth asked, although she had no way of knowing it if were true.

"They weren't. They we laughing at me. And jeering. And pointing."

Beth let out a short laugh. "_Who_ were? A load of five year-old kids dragged along by their grannies?"

"Them _and_ the grannies," Ruth mumbled.

Beth shook her head in exasperation. "And who's going to remember it all then? Apart from you, who will remember a dance display in the West Country where one of the dancers took a tumble? People fall over all the time, it's nothing new!"

"But not like th-"

"And how many of the five people who _do_ remember are likely to be at the ball this evening?"

Ruth swallowed her objection and mumbled an incoherent acquiescence.

"Exactly," Beth continued. "So why should something that happened... how many years ago?"

"Twenty five," Ruth mumbled glumly.

"-twenty five years ago affect your decision to go tonight?"

Again, Ruth was so quiet Beth had difficulty hearing her. "But it might happen again," came the fearful answer.

"Are you _planning_ to throw yourself into a tango lift in the middle of the dance floor? I know Harry's going to be there but-"

"Beth!"

Beth pretended to ignore her flatmate's renewed blush. "Ruth, when was the last time you _actually_ danced?"

This time Ruth's reply was too quiet even for Beth's acute hearing. "Sorry?" she asked.

"Twenty five years ago..."

Beth exhaled and shook her head in slow exasperation. "_Christ,_ Ruth, don't you think it's time you broke this mental block? What's the worst that could happen, hey? You take a tumble, fall over. Worse things have happened, and it's no big deal – we all make fools of ourselves in public. Even _I _did it the other week when I fell over that ridiculous contraption of Tariq's!"

The corner of Ruth's mouth twitched as she remembered the incident.

"You see?" Beth pounced on the opportunity. "We _all_ get a bit clumsy at times. But you'll be among friends, who care about you deeply, and if I know Harry he'll bite the head off anyone one who upsets you." Ruth laughed in spite of herself. "We just want you to be happy and enjoy yourself for once. After everything that's happened lately, don't you think you deserve that?"

The words of a gone friend passed through Ruth's head. _Be brave, be selfish for once..._

Slowly, _very _slowly, she nodded. Beth's heart leaped. "So you'll come?" she asked, scarcely daring to believe it.

Ruth nodded again, biting her lip in anxiety. Beth could have squealed with relief. She jumped up and held out her hand. "Come on then!"

"But I'm not ready," Ruth protested feebly as Beth pulled her to her feet. "I don't know what to wear..."

Beth cut her off and all but dragged her out the door. "Then I'll be your fairy godmother," she said. "And Cinderella _shall_ go to the ball."

_Dear Lord,_ thought Ruth as Beth tugged her across the landing. _What have I let myself in for?_

* * *

><p><strong>My goodness, if I could have a pound for every time I managed to mix up Beth and Ruth's names in this chapter and write the wrong one or a mixture of the two like 'Puth' or 'Reth', I'd be a very rich girl indeed! =P<strong>

**Now, it wasn't intentionally used as inspiration, but I was frequently reminded of the scene in the film **_**Mamma Mia! **_**when I was writing this, the one where Donna (Meryl Streep) is all upset and curled up with her duvet and Rosie (Julie Walters) and Tanya (Christine Baranski) start singing Dancing Queen and it gradually cheers her up. Clearly I'm being subliminally messaged by the title of this fic...**

**Now I'm taking time off from the internet for the next week or so, so usual service will resume as of the 27****th****. Just to keep you all enticed, I fancy dropping in a couple of hints about what's to come in this fic. But what could balconies, August Rush, Macbeth, A&E and ponytails have to do with anything? ;D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Beth, this is hopeless"" exclaimed Ruth as she flopped into a seat. "We're completely different sizes; none of your dresses are going to fit me. And all the shops will be shut by now – it'll be too late to go out and get something from there. We might as well give up now!"

"No!" cried Beth sharply. "No _way_ am I giving up now, not when it took bloody murder to get you to agree to come!"

"But there is _nothing_ that I could wear!" Ruth protested.

"Well you must have some dresses of your own, surely?"

"Nothing that would be appropriate."

"I'll be the judge of that," Beth replied tersely.

Despite her objections, Ruth found herself being dragged out of the chair and across into her own room. Seeing it was futile to argue when Beth was so set on something, she took a seat on the bed and let her flatmate get on with rooting through the wardrobe.

"Good grief," Beth muttered as she sifted through the hangers. "Do you own _anything_ that isn't black or dark navy?"

"I think there are a couple of white blouses in there somewhere," came the sheepish reply.

"_Honestly,_ Ruth..." Beth rolled her eyes, and continued to rummage through.

"Really Beth, there's nothing in there that would b-"

She was cut off by Beth's triumphant cry.

"Aha! Dresses!" Beth flung all the useless clothes along the railing to the far side of the wardrobe and tugged out the treasures at the back. She weighed up the garments she dragged out, discarding them one by one into a heap on Ruth's bed. "Too informal... too black... not showy enough..."

"Beth, be careful with those!"

"They'll live," the other woman dismissed flippantly. "Too Victorian... too black, _again_... dear _God_, Ruth, you _wear_ this thing?"

"It was a costume I had for my Sixth Form play," Ruth mumbled defensively

"And you _kept_ it?" Beth tut-tutted as that too joined the pile of crumpled clothes on the bed. She sighed and resumed her analysis of Ruth's wardrobe contents. "Too wintery... not enough cleavage..."

"_Beth_! I'm not-"

"_Oh..._" Beth's awe-struck sigh cut off her indignant protest. "Oh but that's _perfect..._"

"What is?" Ruth asked, confused as to what in her meagre wardrobe could have shut up the fussing woman. Beth spun around with shining eyes, holding out the prize in its plastic-covered glory. "_This. _Ruth, why didn't you mention you had this?"

Ruth saw what it was that Beth held so preciously in her arms, and the memories came flooding back. "I'd forgotten about it," she admitted, abashed.

"You _what_? _How_?"

"I got it years ago," Ruth replied in way of explanation. "I just walked past it in a shop and... well..."

Beth nodded in understanding. "But you must have worn it before, surely?"

Ruth shook her head. "Never had the opportunity."

"Well now's the perfect time!" She all but bundled the dress into Ruth's arms, and her into the bathroom. "You get dressed, and when you're done we'll see if I can't fix your hair."

"What's wrong with it as it is?"

"You can't wear _that_ dress with your hair in a _ponytail_."

"I'm sure it's f-" Ruth didn't get a chance to finish, as the bathroom door was shut in her face. She stared at the closed door, and then at the dress she held. She could hear Beth as she scurried around, doubtless constructing an entire salon in her endeavours.

Ruth heaved a deep sigh and pulled the protective cover off the dress. It really was too late to back out now.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaand we're back! And rather sooner than I had anticipated (I know I said today, but the days have rather flown by) which means I'm going to have to get writing or else there'll be nothing to update = Let's hope a nice day in the sun will provide fuel for the brain-cells...**

**Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! =)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Dimitri sat on a high stool at the small bar, anxiously sipping his glass of London-priced whiskey and staring absently towards the other end of the magnificent room. Alec approached him slowly.

"I thought you were picking up Beth?" he hazarded

"Change of plan." Dimitri took a generous glug of his drink to drown his sorrows. "She's making her own way here."

Seeing that Dimitri was looking pretty glum about the whole affair, Alec didn't press the subject. "Nice place," he said absently, gesturing with his glass of wine around the massive room.

Dimitri gave a distracted, non-committal shrug of his shoulder. As impressive as the room was, he was more concerned Beth's sudden change of mind. Her phone call had been hurried, to say the least, and her voice was muffled like she was holding back something – _Was it tears? Laughter?_ – as she told him she needed to do something first, and that he should go ahead without her and she'd meet him there later.

Well, it was half an hour until the dinner was due to be served, all the other guests seemed to have arrived, and Beth still wasn't there. _Where on earth had she got to?_

:::

"Ruth, will you please be _careful_!" cried Beth as she saw Ruth stumble. "After all that it's taken to get you here, I do _not_ want to be taking you to A&E because you tripped over the kerb!"

Righting herself, Ruth straightened and blew her hair out of her face. "I'm still thinking that wouldn't be a bad idea," she mumbled, smoothing down non-existent creases in her dress and stepping gingerly away from the taxi.

Beth couldn't hear what she had said, but she caught her expression. "It'll be _fine_," she assured Ruth gently. "Nothing is going to happen to you; you're in safe hands."

"What, _yours_?" Ruth asked incredulously, although with only a fraction of feeling behind the words.

"Yes, mine." Linking arms with her to avoid repetition of Ruth's stumble, Beth led her up the carpeted stairs. They passed through the huge double doors and shut them behind themselves, the usual doormen having abandoned this post in favour of another, such was the lateness of the hour.

They stopped in the entrance hall just short of a second door. The sound of music striking up seeped through the doors and into the empty hallway, and a sliver of light slipped through the gap between the doors and the polished wooden floor, flickering as the shadows of mingling guests swept past on the other side. Ruth nervously put her hand up to her hair, checking it was still in its style. Beth slapped her hand away.

"Quit your faffing," she said firmly.

Ruth mumbled in submission and let her hand fall to her side. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and kept focusing intently on the wood in front of her.

"Ready?" came Beth's voice from next to her, though she sounded further away because of the rushing sounds of blood in Ruth's ears as her heart pumped furiously.

"No," was the pained response.

"Tough."

And with that Beth opened the door, and bundled Ruth into the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Apologies for the delay in this chapter; unbeknownst to me until they arrived, my cousins came for a few days, and I had to keep them occupied. Usual service will (hopefully! – if I get my arse in to gear and get writing!) resume asap =D<strong>

**Please keep leaving reviews and letting me know what you think. This fic is already far longer than I had expected it to be, so it'd be nice to know people are still reading it =)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It had taken Harry two minutes from walking in the door to realise he was not going to enjoy this evening. And being forced to endure his least favourite past-time – small-talk with egotistical politicians – had done little to raise his spirits.

Plastering a false smile on his face, he extracted himself from yet another Cabinet member and excused himself, breathing a sigh of relief as he left the dreary man's stifling company and headed over to join his colleagues at the bar. Head down, he edged his way around the ballroom floor, before finally collapsing onto a bar stool next to Alec. The other man took one look at his boss, and then signalled to the barman for a whiskey. Double strength.

"_Try_ to look a bit more cheerful," he said as Harry drained the glass. "It's supposed to be a celebration."

"It's a waste of time and resources, and money that could be put to better use," came the tart reply.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Who spat in your coffee this morning?"

_Tea_, Harry was tempted to retort, but didn't. Tea only reminded him of the President's visit all those years ago, and the incident with the files, which in turn only reminded him of her reaction... No, best not think about her. Or else he'd enjoy this evening even less than he already was. It was bad enough that she had gotten out of it.

He cursed aloud, bemoaning the small-print terms of his probation that mean he couldn't have escaped this display of supercilious ego as well. Alec looked startled at the sudden outburst.

"Do you want me to feign a fatal injury, or a national emergency?" he asked, only half jokingly.

Harry didn't reply; he just set down his empty glass and rubbed his forehead, before turning his eyes on the ballroom. It _was_ magnificent, to be sure, with its wooden floor polished so much that the elaborate painted ceiling was reflected in it, the extravagantly set dinner tables arranged around the edges, its chandeliers casting a soft, warm glow over the room, and its imposing but intricate columns. _Ionic or Doric? Or something else altogether?_ he wondered to himself. _Ruth would know._ Quickly he beat that thought back down. Ruth was not there, and she wouldn't care about what kind of columns they were. She would _know,_ of course, but he'd feel like a fool asking. And he'd made himself feel a fool in front of her enough times already.

_Stop that_, he told himself. _Concentrate on the here and now._

With all else having failed, he reverted to his spooks instincts and observed. One of the amorous diplomats' wives who had accosted him earlier in the evening had found her prey in another, much younger and far less experienced, spies in the ballroom, and was cosying up to him in one of the benched alcoves to one side of the room, and the Home Secretary was chinking glasses with one of the Section Chiefs from Six. The head of Section F was staring out across the room, apparently absorbed in watching the dancing going on in the middle, but Harry's sharp eyes could see even from this distance that the man's lips were moving slightly as he spoke to the woman on his right, the shrewd Deputy Foreign Secretary. He would have to keep an eye on that, he thought. He'd ask Ruth to run some checks...

_Again!_ He needed some fresh air to clear his head, he decided. He slid off his seat suddenly, startling Dimitri and Alec, and pushed away from the bar. He wove in between the other guests, dodging swirling skirts and polished patent shoes, narrowly missing decapitation by a tray of drinks held aloft by a waiter. When his way was blocked by a large crowd of people he barged his way through the middle, his frustration increasing by the second. He burst out of the crowd, near stumbling over in his haste, and put his hand out for the door handle.

The door opened inwards before he could reach it, and he had to jump backwards to avoid being hit by the heavy oak. He straightened up angrily, ready to shout the skin off whoever had opened it into his face. He stopped in his tracks, completely jolted out of his irritated reverie, when he locked gaze with the culprit, and looked into a pair of _incredibly_ familiar eyes.

"Ruth?" he cried, completely astounded. "What on earth are you doing here?"

* * *

><p><strong>And there we have it – finally! It's only taken me, oh, ten chapters to get them to this point... Anyway, thank you for your words of encouragement for last chapter, and I hope you like this one. Next time, the good stuff begins ;D<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

She had hoped to arrive quietly and discretely. She had hoped to slip in at the back and duck behind one of the huge Ionic columns before anyone she knew (or didn't know for that matter) spotted her. An arrival that drew the least possible attention to her, at the most.

Her plan was completely destroyed even before she stepped into the room: firstly, when Beth all but flung her into the ballroom; secondly as she almost knocked out someone as she fell through the door; and thirdly as she looked at the person she had almost sent flying in order to apologise, and locked gaze with Harry Pearce.

"Ruth? What on earth are you doing here?"

He sounded as shocked as she felt. _I have no idea_, she mumbled to herself, but the clamour of the ballroom was enough to drown out any sounds that left her lips. She lowered her eyes to the ground and bit her lip nervously, what little confidence she had before Beth forced her into the room now completely vanished.

Seeing her reaction to his shocked outburst, Harry kicked himself mentally. _You idiot,_ he berated himself. _You've only gone and made things worse._

He would have taken back his words and blabbered out an apology of his own, but he'd done enough damage already and lingering on the topic would, he knew, only make things worse for the both of them. Instead he straightened up and did what he ought to have done instead of blurting out his surprise; he gazed at Ruth, marvelling that she was there, true, but marvelling at _her._

The dark blouses and long skirts she wore on the Grid did not do her justice, he decided, casting his eye appreciatively over the hidden curves now revealed, and across the expanse of creamy skin the dress exposed, up to her face. Her hair was swept upwards and held in place by a simple silver clasp while a few curled tendrils fell to frame her face, and the smoky grey colour dusted lightly over her eyelids complemented the allure of her eyes. Fastened around her wrist was the bracelet he had given her for her birthday the previous year, to match the delicate silver chain she often wore.

And, to top it all, she was wearing _that_ dress. It skimmed her waist and hips and fell tumbling to the floor in a wave of teal satin, and rippled like a breeze over water when she moved even the tiniest amount. Even as she rubbed her arm in awkwardness at his attention, the dress fluttered with the movement, every bit as simultaneously flowing and form-fitting as he had always imagined. Ruth wasn't to know that Harry had already seen the dress, had passed the silken material through his fingers and lifted it up to his face to inhale her scent, had imagined her wearing it, then let tears fall at the knowledge he would never see such a sight. After she had gone into exile, he had paid a last visit to her house, trying to cling on to every memory he had of her. He had gently pushed open the door to her bedroom and stepped in, and something had compelled him over to the open wardrobe.

Now though, the reality was far and beyond anything he had imagined, and made even better by the fact that this vision was real, and she was _here_. Aware he was in danger of crossing the boundary between staring and gaping, Harry open opened his mouth to say something – _anything_. Before he could utter a word, he was interrupted.

"Ruth," Dimitri purred, practically elbowing Harry aside and coming to rest beside her. "You look _wonderful._"

She finally raised her gaze from the floor, and Harry watched her train her eyes on her colleague, his words stirring a flicker of confidence in her. "Really?" she murmured.

"A delicate balance between perfection and beauty," he replied, enunciating each word precisely.

His theatrical deliverance of the compliment drew out a smile from her. "Flatterer," she laughed, nudging him with her elbow.

"Fisher for compliments," he retorted.

"Flirt." Before he could bounce back with another response, she nudged him again, and nodded in the direction of one of the tables. "Beth's over there," she prompted him, and watched with a smile as he ducked away.

Unable to be cross with Dimitri for butting in on a non-existent conversation, especially when he had wheedled a smile out of Ruth, Harry now stepped up to her.

"Matchmaker," he chastised her gently.

She smiled up at him. "Someone ought to be. They need a bit of a nudge in the right direction."

He raised an eyebrow at the irony of her words. She looked away again, once more fascinated by the polished wooden floor.

Harry gazed at her softly. "Dimitri did get it right though," he murmured. "You do look beautiful."

She smiled slightly to the floor, still too shy or embarrassed to meet his eyes.

"Well," he amended, "almost right."

That got her attention. Her head snapped up. "Oh?" she asked, intrigued.

"I think we've seen enough evidence – right from your very first day on the Grid – that you and the word 'balance' should _never_ belong in the same sentence."

Ruth tried to appear miffed and frown at him, but it barely lasted a second before his words educed a laugh that was part indignation and a part roll of her eyes, and part relief that the ice between them had been broken. They were still smiling at one another, eyes locked, when a bell rang and it was announced that dinner was served.

"Shall we?" Harry asked, offering her his arm.

It took every inch of his self-control not to react when she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. But it took even more than that when she gave him a smile that was for his eyes only, squeezed his arm gently, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>The most difficult chapter yet, but my favourite to write regardless. Hope you enjoyed!<strong>

**I've put a link to my Photobucket folder on my profile, where you can see pictures of the venue for this dance (a real-life location used for formal governmental etc. occasions – Banqueting House, in Whitehall) and also an image of Ruth's dress. Many thanks must go to Lady Devonshire, who once again saved my neck by identifying the style of columns (because it would not do for Ruth to get that wrong!), who suggested Banqueting House as a venue all those months ago, and whose Photobucket folder idea I pilfered. Consider this chapter your payment ;D**

**Oh, and there's a few lines in here inspired by a scene in Doctor Who. Any DW viewers will probably be able to figure out which bit I'm talking about easily, but have a guess anyway! xxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

With dinner finished and speeches endured, Ruth found herself seated in one of the alcoves of the room as the tables were cleared and pushed aside, quite content to sit and observe while she waited for her sumptuous meal to go down. She leant against the wall, her knees tucked under her as she surveyed the room, eyes bright and lips curled into a smile at the sight of Dimitri attempting to lead Beth into a tango, and standing on the toes of many a politician in the process – although whether accidentally or intentionally she could not tell.

She felt the bench cushion beneath her shift slightly as Harry sat down next to her. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," Ruth admitted softly.

"I know what you mean," he murmured. _Once you arrived my evening became infinitely better._ "And I'm glad you managed to overcome your fear of dance to come tonight after all."

She snapped her head up sharply. "You _knew_?" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with alarm.

"Of course I knew, Ruth," he replied gently. "With you acting the way you did when I mentioned the word... There had to be something behind it, behind your sudden reluctance to come here tonight. I was curious, and I was concerned. It didn't take long to piece together."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she half-whispered.

Harry paused before answering. "I didn't know if my concern would be welcome," he admitted, almost as quiet as she. "After everything that's happened between us – or hasn't... I couldn't be sure that you wouldn't push me aside again..."

The unspoken '_And I couldn't go through that again'_ hung in the air between them.

"But anyway, it's done now. And I'm glad Beth persuaded you to come."

Ruth let out a short laugh. "_Persuaded_," she repeated. "Yes, that's the word for it. A very one-sided discussion indeed."

Harry chuckled at the imagine of Beth not letting Ruth – of all people – get a word in edgeways. "It worked though," he pointed out.

She inclined her head in admission. "That's true. She convinced me it was about time I stopped running from my past."

"Well, twenty-five years _is_ a long time..."

Ruth was hardly surprised that Harry knew the exact details of her dancing mishap all those years ago. "I wish Beth had been as resourceful as you in finding out the truth," she muttered, remembering how her colleague had wrestled the trophies from her. "We might have avoided a couple of scenes..."

"I should bloody well hope she hadn't," he grumbled. "The sources I had to compromise in order to get this information..." He tutted loudly, exaggerating the severity. "I would have had to sack her on the spot!"

She rolled her eyes at him, knowing full well he wasn't being serious. Still, though he hadn't compromised any sources, he would have had to do a fair bit of digging in order to find out about the incident in Devon. As soon as she'd been able, she'd abused her hacking ability to erase every link possible to it. _And still he had managed to find out the truth..._ She had a funny feeling Malcolm might have been involved, but she set that thought to one side for the moment. She had something else she needed to know.

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked. "If you didn't think I would appreciate your concern before, what's changed your mind now?"

Her words could have sounded hostile, but Harry did not baulk. He turned to face her properly, studying her face intensely. When he spoke, his voice was tender and soft. "Maybe I'm tired of running too," he said, lacing his words with every inch of emotion he could muster, and watching her with his heart in his mouth as the full force of it hit her.

Her downcast eyes gave nothing away, but the trembling in her voice did. "So if we're not running anymore..." she began slowly, and raised her eyes to meet his. "What do we do now?"

He felt the enormity of her leap of faith weigh down his shoulders, but it only served to make him more determined. Never breaking her gaze, he stood and took her hand in his, drawing her up to him.

"We dance," he said softly, and pressed the faintest whisper of a kiss to her fingers.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I was wrong. <strong>_**This**_** was my favourite chapter to write yet. I hope I did the moment justice =)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

As Harry led her over to the dance-floor, Ruth had the distinct feeling of being watched by the entire room. She knew it was an absurd notion – the most people who could have been remotely interested, if they could even see past the throng of people there, were sitting over in the far corner. Still, the warm light cast by the chandeliers felt like the fierce glare of stage lighting, and the at-best-curious glances towards them from the other guests they passed felt as harsh as frowns from the sternest of critics. Her legs were turning to jelly with every step she took forward.

Harry felt her falter beside him and put his hand to her back to support her.

"Harry..." she began, her voice trembling and barely audible.

He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. "You want to stop running." It was not a question but she nodded anyway. "And you trust me?"

Ruth noticed his change in tone immediately. Where before he had been certain now there was doubt and uncertainty in his voice. His face was calm, impassive, but even then she could sense his fear. She thought of Albany, of the inquiry, of Harry's quiet but measured statement that had Albany worked he would not have exchanged it for her life, but it would have been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, and his later words to her alone where he asked her forgiveness for that decision.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I trust you."

Harry let out a breath that neither of them had known he'd been holding. "So," he began again, "might I beg a dance with our resident champion? I know I'm no Fred Astaire-"

"I should hope not, since he's been dead for twenty-four years!" interjected Ruth lightly.

"Well then, consider yourself forewarned," Harry replied. "Shall we?"

Half an hour ago, Ruth would have turned and fled away. Now, though, the warm pressure of his hand at the small of her back, the easy smile and the look of absolute belief he bestowed upon her, and the echo of their words in her head gave strength to her stride, and they stepped onto the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>I am SO sorry. I only meant to leave this for a couple of days while I tried to figure out how to work the dance scene, but a few days turned into a few weeks, which kept escalating. I apologise most profusely!<strong>

**Only a teeny tiny chapter for now, but seeing as I think you can guess what's coming next, I hope I'm forgiven. I'm still amazed by how the idea 'Ruth, Harry, evening wear, dancing' managed to go into my brain one end, and come out the other as 13+ chapters, but there we go. Hopefully you're still enjoying it! Next chapter will be up soon =)**

**Many thanks to everyone who has been leaving reviews/adding to alerts/favs!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

She closed her eyes as she slipped into his hold, taking long, deep breaths to keep herself calm. She could feel his left hand curled around her right, and the light pressure of his fingers at her back. Their bodies were flush against one another, and she could feel his breath on the exposed skin of her neck and collar-bone when he spoke.

"Ruth," he murmured as the first bars of the music began. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to face him. "I believe in you."

The look in his eyes and the emotion in his voice made her want to say something in response, but then his leg moved against hers and she followed him, falling into a position and rhythm that had never really left her.

The music began gently, a steady flow that they mirrored in their steps, one slow beat and then two faster. They turned smoothly, rotating around an invisible spot on the floor between them. Ruth had her head tilted to the left, facing away from Harry, but she could sense his eyes scrutinising her face. She swallowed, and tried to focus on where her feet were going, but it was rather difficult when she was pressed so intimately against his body. She anticipated every step he led them into, feeling the pressure of his leg against hers and the slight turn of his body as he manoeuvred them around the floor. She was about to ask him where _he _had learned to dance when she found their motion paused, and her body reacting instantly as he leant her back, one of her arms now free and outstretched.

As they straightened up and resumed their steady rotations, the voice of the singer floated around them, lifting them up and carrying them further across the floor. The tempo increased, the music started to build, and suddenly they were sweeping their way around the perimeter, the satin skirt of her dress floating behind them.

They caught another pause in the music and changed direction, her head turning gracefully to face the other way, and then back again. She caught sight of Harry's smile, lighting up his whole face. Had he once taken his eyes off her? She bit her lip to hide her smile and blushed. Harry felt his heart swell and with a burst of speed swept them into the middle of the floor. Ruth was still stunned that she was back on a dance floor; she had been so convinced that all this was forever behind her that it was hard to believe she was really here, let alone that she could ever enjoy it again. No, 'enjoying' was not enough to cover it, this all-encompassing lightness that engulfed her. It was enjoyable, certainly, but there was something more: pride that she had finally broken down this impassable barrier; relief that she had not been completely terrible after twenty-five years of fleckerl-less-ness; and a longing that the dance could go on forever.

The other dancers had pressed out to the edges by now but the two of them proudly claimed the open space, turning faster, and faster still, as the music built. She couldn't keep the impeccable hold she'd had before, instead giving in to the bliss of the moment and throwing her head back with a laugh. Then she lowered her face to meet his gaze and they span, not breaking eye-contact even as the world outside their little bubble blurred to splashes of colour amidst flashes of the grey columns of the ballroom. Light-headed as they were, they probably ought to have fallen, but they were in complete balance, each the anchor to the other in this dizzying whirl.

The music reached a crescendo and faded down, giving way to the high peal of the singer and a slower but lively rhythm. Harry swept her away once more, navigating around the floor and weaving between the other dancers. They turned first this way, then the other. They bobbed and weaved, checked and hesitated, and he led her into steps she never thought she would dance again. He knew she was capable of it though, and was proven right as she executed them flawlessly. She outshone him completely, but he didn't mind; he was perfectly happy to concede if it meant he got to see her so carefree and elated, completely carried away by the dance, and in his arms.

He heard the music start to slow and his heart fell, desperately sorry that he would have to let her go. But as they slowed she fixed him with an expression that froze his pulse and left him speechless at the sheer extent of joy and love it held. He held her tighter and leaned in closer, determined to savour every remaining moment. He could see how his short breaths ruffled the strands of hair that had come loose from Beth's elaborate creation, and could feel her own erratic breathing echoed against his neck.

With the last increase in the music they turned smoothly, following its ebb and fall as it led into the final crescendo. Their pulses raced, their eyes were ablaze, and they were completely enraptured as they stepped, oh so slowly, and drifted to a standstill.

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><p><strong>One new chapter, as promised! That was one of the most difficult scenes I've ever written. I don't know if any of you have ever tried writing a dance scene (or a fight scene – to me it was on a similar level) but it's hard!<strong>

**Now, there's a specific piece of music I had in mind as I wrote this, and that's an extract of August's Rhapsody from the film August Rush. I've put a link to it on my profile, and the specific bit is from about 3 minutes in until the end. I cannot listen to this without getting goosebumps (and believe me, I've listened to it a **_**lot**_**).**

**Finally, MANY thanks to ColoursNeverSeen for keeping me in check with this, and thank you to anyone who has stuck it out with this fic despite the ridiculously long wait. I've still got one or two chapters to go, but I've done most of the next one already. In the mean time, Happy New Year! =D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

They stood frozen, eyes locked and hands entwined. He could feel her heart racing and her chest heaving against him; just as he was sure she could feel the same from him. Her mouth felt dry, her throat burned as she struggled for breath, and she could feel every inch of him pressed so close against her body, his arms cradling her to him.

The whole room was absolutely silent, transfixed. Then, suddenly, a lone person started clapping, then another, then more and more until everyone present had broken into rapturous applause at the pair of them.

They jumped at the noise, breaking apart a little. Ruth flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet and Harry cleared this throat. Though they hadn't been the only ones on the dance-floor at the beginning of the song, they certainly were now; all the other dances had gradually cleared out of the way of the striking couple, moving to the side to watch in awe. Harry might have been concerned for Ruth what with the amount of attention they were – well, she was, mostly – getting, but though her head was ducked shyly she smiled delightedly and swept the room a brief but elegant curtsey. Harry followed with a decidedly less elegant bow, still somewhat stunned, and they moved off the floor, the applause dying down. His hand at the small of her back, he led her over to the rest of Section D who stood to one side, mouths agape. Over the silence, one voice spoke up clearly.

"Well, you know what they say about dancing. A vertical expression of a horizontal desire..."

The voice – Dimitri's – was swiftly cut off by a sharp elbow in the ribs – Beth's. She stepped in front of him and beamed at Ruth, taking her by the hand and gushing almost manically about the dance, pausing to add (only a little bit jokingly) that her skills as a stylist were what finished the piece. Tariq sniggered behind them and Beth whipped around to glare daggers at him. Alec simply rolled his eyes at the younger spooks and pulled Harry into a handshake.

Feeling the need to get some air, Harry tried to catch Ruth's eye and see if she wanted to step outside for a moment and get away from the crowds. He didn't get the opportunity, however; as soon as Ruth had her breath back Dimitri dragged her back onto the floor and engaged her in a tango. Ruth attempted to look dignified and sincere but it was quite frankly impossible with him making such ridiculous faces throughout and trying his utmost to accidentally crash into the other couples. Much as he wanted to be annoyed at Dimitri for cutting short his plan, Harry couldn't help but laugh at the Twister-rivalling scene of chaos before him, so he and Tariq and Beth made a tactical retreat to the bar where they could watch, but not be crushed, by the many people milling around the dance-floor to watch the new spectacle.

Most of the evening passed with Ruth flitting merrily from partner to partner, the social butterfly of the gathering with an increasingly renewed delight for dance. The more time she spent in a waltz or a foxtrot, the more it came flooding back to her just how much she had loved this before, and the more faint the memory of that fateful competition became.

Eventually though, Harry's chance came. Ever the 'gentleman', Dimitri escorted Ruth back to the others after their latest dance and relinquished her care to Harry, before flopping unceremoniously into a bar stool and ordering whatever drink would excuse him from dancing for the rest of the evening.

Harry turned to face Ruth, his mouth suddenly dry. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in slight disarray, but with the most genuine smile he had ever seen on her face, she had never been more beautiful to him.

"Would you-" He cleared his throat, starting to colour at the hoarse tone of his voice. "Would you like to get some fresh air?"

Ruth held his gaze for several long seconds. She knew as well as he that fresh air was never just fresh air when it involved the two of them, and all the baggage that had ever come between them.

"Or-or we could just-"

"No, that'd be nice." She smiled at him and, emboldened by her encouragement, he offered her his arm.

They swept up an impressive mahogany staircase, tactically avoiding the canoodling couples in the foyer, and through a door that led outside. The wind was chilly and the night air brisk as they stepped onto the empty balcony. Harry made as if to offer Ruth his jacket, but she waved him away, and held out her hand instead. Faint music drifted up from the ballroom, and once more he found himself locked together with Ruth in a dance. They turned slowly, savouring the moment. Tonight had been wonderful, but it was one night in a year, and who knew when they might have the chance to do this again? Surprising herself, Ruth decided that if she could do something to change that, now was the time to do it.

"Ruth, I-" Harry began.

She cut him off by taking hold of his lapels, standing on tiptoe, and _ever_ so gently pressing her lips to his.

He paused for the briefest moment, enough to take in that this was Ruth, in his arms, the warmth of her body pressing close to him, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her even closer and, as any gentleman would in such a situation, kissing her back most determinedly.

They staggered along the pavement, slightly the worse for wear. To any passers-by they just looked just the usual group of friends after a night out in London, propping each other up and trying not to trip over their own (and their friends') feet as they made their way home. One arm around Beth's waist, both to keep her standing and to keep her close to him, Dimitri tried (unsuccessfully) to hail a cab.

"I knew we should have hitched a lift with the Home Secretary," Beth mumbled against his chest.

Tariq raised one eyebrow at her. "Do you really think you'd get within a mile of any official car in this state? Spy or not, I don't think you could talk your way out of having nearly been sick in a pot-plant..."

She shrugged her shoulders and stuck out her foot to trip him up. "Harry would have given us a lift if we'd asked."

"I don't think letting your boss see you drunk is the best idea in the world," advised the rather-more-sober Alec.

"Speaking of the boss," piped up Tariq. "Has anyone seen him lately?"

"Not for hours," replied Dimitri with a shrug.

"What about Ruth?"

"Not since that last foxtrot. Blimey that woman can dance!"

"Ruth's smart," said Beth. "And sober. She'll find her way home alright."

Before any of them could piece together the evidence, Beth distracted them by letting down a delighted squeal after having successfully summoned over a taxi, and they piled into the cab with more than a little difficulty, and less than a lot of decorum.

Had any of them glanced up, they would have seen for themselves exactly where Harry and Ruth had disappeared to. On the balcony high above the road, two figures bathed in the light of the city stood contentedly, arms wrapped around one another as they gazed across to the river. Oblivious to anyone but each other, they kissed and embraced with the familiarity and contentment of long-time lovers, before disappearing into the shadows, hand-in-hand.

Perhaps more than a vertical expression would be fulfilled tonight after all.

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><p><em><strong>Finally<strong>_**, the last chapter of Dancing Queen! I'm sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are always greatly appreciated!**


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